HE’D SHOWERED DOWNSTAIRS, towel-dried his hair and pulled on clean lounge pants and a T-shirt, and now he was waiting.
How was she feeling?
Weird, probably. He certainly felt weird. This was so different to doing it anonymously in a clinic, but he’d just have to shut his mind to all the tumbling thoughts and do the job.
He glanced down at his body. ‘You’d better co-operate,’ he told it, and then he heard her door open and her voice calling him.
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and walked out of his room.
She was perched on the edge of the bed wrapped in the robe, but he could see a sliver of thigh at the hem and in the gaping neck he could make out a flimsy bit of dark pink silk and lace above a shadowed cleavage, and his body leapt to life. Well, that would make things easier, he thought wryly, but she wasn’t looking at him, just sitting there on the edge of the bed staring at the floor, and beside her on the bedside table was a little pot and a syringe.
He swallowed. ‘Are you OK?’
She nodded, but she didn’t look up and he wondered if she was embarrassed. Or if she’d changed her mind about him?
He dropped down onto his haunches in front of her and put his hands on her knees over the robe. ‘What’s wrong? Is it still making you shudder?’
‘No. No, it’s nothing. It just—it all seems a little soulless, that’s all. I know it’s stupid because it couldn’t possibly know, but—it just seems such a clinical and loveless way to make a baby...’
She glanced at the pot, then away again, and he put a finger under her chin and lifted her head gently until he could see her eyes.
They were soft and luminous in the light from the lamp, shimmering with unshed tears.
‘It isn’t loveless,’ he said softly. ‘You’re doing this out of love for your sister and your brother-in-law. Just think of that, of them.’
She swallowed and nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, you’re right, I’m only being silly, but it just seems so cold—’
She broke off, took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. ‘Go on, then. Go and do your stuff. I’ll be all right.’
He picked up the pot and straightened up, then glanced back at her. She was hugging herself, her arms wrapped tightly round her waist as if she was holding herself together, and he replaced the pot, sat down beside her and put his arm round her.
She was as taut as a bowstring, and he shook his head and dropped a kiss on her hair.
‘Hey, Iona, it’s OK. We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.’
‘I am,’ she said, her voice small and clogged with tears. ‘I’m just being ridiculous.’
‘It’s not ridiculous, it’s a huge step. Or is it me? Am I the problem?’
She looked up at him again, her eyes like windows. ‘No—no, it’s not you. Definitely not you.’ She sighed wistfully and looked away. ‘I always used to dream of falling in love and getting married and having babies, and I don’t ever seem to have got past the first one, and maybe there’s a bit of me that wants to do this for them because like you it might be my only chance to have a baby. And at least I won’t have to change nappies.’
She was laughing at that, but it was such a sad little laugh it tore him in two, because he’d had the same dream of happy-ever-after once, and Natalie had snatched it from him and turned it into a nightmare.
‘I can understand that,’ he said. ‘I had that dream, and it was destroyed. It’s like she took my innocence and burnt it alive in front of my eyes and left me unable to trust or love anyone.’
She looked up at that, reached up, cradled his jaw with her hand, a little frown creasing her brow. ‘I’m so sorry she hurt you.’ Her fingers were icy, and he realised she was shivering, although it wasn’t cold. He turned his head a fraction, pressed his lips into her palm.
‘Let’s go downstairs and talk about it, hmm?’
‘No. No, Joe, I want to do this now,’ she said, her voice much firmer. ‘I’m just being a drama queen, but you’re right, I’m doing it for love, and it’s not as if the baby’s going to notice how it gets there, is it?’
He looked at the pot, looked at her determined but wistful face, and threw his sanity out of the window.
‘There is an easier way,’ he said softly, and she turned and looked up at him, her eyes confused as they searched his.
‘Easier—?’ And then her eyes widened, her lips parted, her soft gasp barely audible. ‘You’d do that?’
‘Why not? I’m not in a relationship, neither are you, and neither of us has any reason to want one at this time in our lives, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still normal, healthy adults, and there’s no way I’m going to deny that I want you, Iona. I have done, right from day one. You’re beautiful, in every way, so, yes, I’d do that, without hesitation. So long as you don’t expect anything else from me, and so long as you don’t do anything crazy like imagine you’re in love with me, then I’m more than happy to have a no-strings affair with you.
‘But you do need to understand the rules. This isn’t happy-ever-after, Iona. This is just what it is, an honest, straightforward physical relationship between two like-minded people, and if it leads to a baby for your sister, that’s good. If it doesn’t, I’m still happy, but it’s not for ever and you need to know that up front. I’m not and I never will be again in the market for happy-ever-after, so it’s entirely your call.’
* * *
She searched his eyes, felt a shiver of need run through her and her breath caught in her throat.
‘OK. And—yes.’
‘Are you absolutely sure?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
He stood up, pulled her to her feet and cupped her shoulders in his hands, staring down into her eyes. He must have seen what he was looking for, because he lowered his head—slowly, as if he was giving her time to back away—and then she went up on tiptoe and closed the gap.
Her mouth met his and it felt—hot. So hot, soft yet firm, and hungry. So hungry. Flames shot through her and she parted her lips for him, her tongue meeting his and searching, exploring the taste and feel of him as he kissed her back.
Mint, cool and clean, contrasting with the heat of his tongue, the warmth of his hands on her back. He slid one down, cradled her bottom and she tasted his groan as he lifted her against him.
She felt the hard ridge of his erection, the tautness of his spine beneath her hands, the softness of his hair as she threaded her fingers into it and pulled his head down towards her. He hadn’t shaved, and she felt the slight rasp of his beard against her skin, the sensation sending fire dancing through her veins.
He eased away, sliding the gown off her shoulders. She heard the sharp hiss of his indrawn breath, then his hands traced her body through the silk and lace, the heat of his palms setting fire to her everywhere they touched.
‘I want you,’ he breathed, his lips leaving hers, teasing her throat, his breath drifting hot and urgent over her skin.
His hands cupped her bottom and he rocked against her, making her gasp and clench her legs together against the sudden blizzard of sensations. She’d never felt—
‘You’re shivering,’ he said, and letting go of her he flicked back the covers. ‘Get into bed, you’re freezing,’ he said, his voice gruff, and she lay down, staring up at him, seeing the need raw in his eyes as he stripped off his clothes and rested one knee on the edge of the bed, his body taut and proud, aroused.
Her heart pounded, her breathing short and tight, and then he reached out a hand and ran it lightly over her breast, and she thought her heart would stop.
The nipple peaked instantly under the silk and his eyes darkened, the ice turning to fire. ‘You’re beautiful, do you know that? So beautiful,’ he said rawly, and then he was there beside her, wrapping the covers over them and reaching for her again.
His mouth found hers, then moved on, trailing fire over her throat, her collar bones, down between her breasts. He turned his head a fraction, caught her nipple between his lips, flicked it with his tongue through the fine silk and then blew on it, cooling it again.
A shudder ran through her and her hands plucked at him, running over his hot, smooth skin, down his back, up again and round, her fingers trailing over his hip, down, across a board-flat abdomen, finding their target.
He gave a shuddering groan as her fingers closed around the hot, straining shaft of his erection, and his hand found the edge of lace and slid under it, his hot palm flat against the bowl of her pelvis. She rocked, arching up towards him, and his hand moved down, one knee nudging her legs apart to give his skilful fingers access.
She should have known. She’d seen how sensitive his fingers were, almost instinctive, and his touch was unerring as he gently explored the delicate folds. How did he know how to touch her, to turn her body into liquid fire?
‘Joe—!’
‘Shh. I’m here. I’ve got you,’ he breathed, and then his mouth found hers again and he moved over her, their bodies merging into one. She could feel his heart beat against her chest, breathed his air as he held his face just over hers, their eyes locked as he started to move, picking up the rhythm of the silent drumbeat of their bodies.
She felt the beat quicken, felt his instant response, the driving, thrusting urgency of his movement as his body surged against hers over and over again as she rose to meet him, and then he found her mouth again, his teeth nipping gently, his tongue thrusting, faster and faster as her body exploded into a million shards of light.
She felt him stiffen, felt the deep, pulsing shudder of his climax, felt the groan torn from deep inside his chest, his head dropping against her shoulder. His body went limp for a moment as he caught his breath, and then he propped himself up on his elbows and stared down into her eyes.
He looked as shocked as she felt, stunned by the force of what they’d unleashed, but then he lowered his head and touched a gentle kiss to her mouth before rolling to his side and gathering her tenderly into his arms, while the aftershocks rolled through them and their hearts slowed.
* * *
‘Wow,’ he murmured softly, brushing a hand lightly over her hair and sifting the fine, silky strands through his fingers. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m not complaining.’
Her voice sounded stunned, and he chuckled. ‘Me neither,’ he murmured, hugging her closer and trying to work out what had happened.
And then she laughed a little unsteadily. ‘I know one thing, if I am pregnant it’s a good job the baby won’t know how it got there,’ she said, and his gut clenched.
The baby. He’d forgotten about the baby.
He’d started out with the best intentions, but then somewhere along the line he’d forgotten why they were doing it, what it was all about, and concentrated on wringing every last ounce of exquisite pleasure out of it for both of them.
Well, he’d certainly done that, and whatever else it might have been, it certainly hadn’t been soulless.
‘I think maybe some things are best left unsaid,’ he told her, his voice sounding rusty, and then sucked in his breath as another shockwave rippled through his body. He felt blindsided, totally confused. He’d never felt like this in his life, so right, so connected, so—perfectly in tune. And it had come out of nowhere, just when he’d committed himself to looking after her.
And it was too late to change his mind, too late to realise that making love to her was a big mistake. Because it had felt like making love, not having sex, and if it hadn’t been for his commitment to her he would have run a mile.
But he couldn’t do that, because he’d made her a promise, and he didn’t break his promises. There was no way he could walk away from her, not now, and he realised he didn’t really want to. He wanted to stay with her, see her through her pregnancy, if there was one, enjoy the next few months, and then move on as planned.
They could still have the relationship he’d outlined to her, based on a mutual understanding, and then when the time was right they’d both move on, her to handing over the baby if there was one and getting her life back on track, him to furthering his career.
But he knew, in his heart of hearts, that she would be a hard act to follow, and suddenly nine months didn’t seem anything like long enough.
Better make the most of it...
* * *
She stirred, waking slowly from a heavy sleep, and then blinked, confused for a moment until it all came back to her.
The room was in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the landing through the slightly open door. Joe must have turned off the lights, she realised, and reached for him, only to find he’d gone.
Gone some time ago, as well, if the cool sheets were anything to go by, and she felt oddly bereft. Stupid, really. It was only sex, he’d made that clear enough, and the only reason she was there at all was because he’d offered to help her sister.
She had no hold over him, no rights to any expectations, and she knew that. She’d agreed to it, but it hadn’t taken her long to work out how little her promise to him had registered with her heart.
Where was he? Not her business, but she needed the bathroom. Maybe that was where he was?
She lay there for a while, but the house was silent, and she turned on the light and rummaged for her phone.
Four thirty-eight. Had he woken and gone back to his own room? She slipped out of bed, pulled on the robe and crept out of the door, trying not to disturb him, but his bedroom door was open, the bed untouched. And the light was on in the hall below.
She used the bathroom and then went downstairs, followed the light and found him in his study, sitting on the sofa with the laptop on his lap and a mug in his hand. He’d pulled his clothes back on, but his feet were bare and curiously sexy, and she felt a little awkward. Was she supposed to feel that? Or was she out of line, following him down here to see what he was doing? Maybe he hadn’t wanted her to. Was that what he’d meant by not getting any ideas? She didn’t have a clue.
She hovered there in the doorway for a moment, not knowing what to say and wondering if she should quietly slip back upstairs and pretend she hadn’t been down, but he looked up and met her eyes a little warily.
‘Hi. You OK?’
She nodded. ‘I wondered where you were. I might have known you’d be working. Is the kettle still hot?’
‘I doubt it. Do you want tea?’
‘I can make it,’ she said, and he held the mug out to her. ‘Is that “Please can I have another one”?’ she asked lightly, going over to take it, and he grinned and put the mug down and caught her hand.
‘It could be,’ he said, closing his laptop. ‘Or we could get a glass of water and go back up to bed, which is my preferred option.’
She felt the tension go out of her like a punctured balloon, and he pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him, threaded his fingers through her hair and drew her head down so he could kiss her. She felt his body change instantly, felt hers responding, then without warning he stood up, cradling her bottom in his hands, and carried her upstairs to bed.
‘Right, where were we?’ he asked gruffly, sitting down on the bed. She was still straddling him, the contact intimate and yet not—until his hands slid up under the gown, under the nightie, shifting her as he tugged down his trousers. Then he settled her back down and rocked against her, just gently, just enough to drive her wild.
He shifted again, his fingers—those clever, wicked fingers—stroking, searching until she thought she was going to die if he made her wait another second—
And then he was there, filling her, making her gasp and fall forward, her hair tumbling across his chest as he lay back and tunnelled his fingers through it, tilted her face and kissed her.
So much for her doubts, she thought, and then felt herself tighten, felt sensation crashing through her as he rolled her onto her back and drove into her one last time, and then she lost all coherent thought...
* * *
They woke up starving, and he showered quickly and went down to start breakfast while she followed him through the bathroom.
It seemed a lifetime ago that she’d showered in there, in preparation for what had turned out to be the most amazing night of her life. She smiled and hummed to herself as she washed, a little part of her wondering if deep within her body a tiny life was starting.
No. It would be too soon—wouldn’t it? Better not to think about it yet. She’d done that before and it hadn’t worked.
She turned off the water, towelled herself quickly dry, pulled on her jeans and a light sweater and ran downstairs in bare feet.
‘Perfect timing. Veranda?’
‘Lovely. I’ll get socks,’ she said, and ran back up to get them. She put her trainers on, too, and threw her things back into her bag and took it down with her, dumping it by the front door.
‘Right, breakfast,’ she said, going out onto the veranda, and he touched his finger to his lips and pointed down the garden.
A small deer was there, nuzzling the ground under the sweet chestnut tree at the bottom of the garden, and as she took a step forward it lifted its head, turned and vanished into the shrubs.
‘Does chestnut stuffing go with venison?’ she asked, tucking into a bacon roll, and he chuckled.
‘I don’t know, but it woke me last night so I might yet find out. That was when I got up, a little after three. I was awake, and—well, there’s always work to do.’
‘There is—for you, anyway. I’m all packed. I’ll eat this and head off, leave you to get on.’
‘I won’t do much, I need to go to bed at some point. I’m on nights all week, starting tonight, so I’ll work in the quiet spells. It’s not usually that busy, it’s just for covering the out of hours stuff, so it might be fairly useful because I’ve got an exam at the end of next week.’
‘I don’t suppose I’ll see much of you in the next few days, then,’ she said, trying to keep it light and not sound needy, but he shrugged.
‘I don’t know. I would say if you were going to get pregnant this weekend we’ve probably done enough, unless you want to wake me up at five,’ he murmured with a lazy, wicked twinkle.
Her heart thumped at that reminder of why they were doing this, and although she wanted to say yes, she knew that she had to keep some distance for the sake of her sanity. So she said no. ‘I’m tempted, but I think you probably need to concentrate on work and sleep for the rest of the week,’ she told him with a smile to soften it.
‘Maybe next weekend, then? We’ll have to see how it goes. If I haven’t got enough work done for the exam, I’ll need to study all weekend as well. Want another?’ he offered, and she took another bacon roll.
‘You make the best bacon butties in the world,’ she mumbled round a mouthful, and he chuckled.
‘I do, don’t I?’ he agreed, and sank his teeth into another one.
* * *
She didn’t see him again that day, although she was tempted to go back and wake him as he’d suggested, but she thought better of it and it was just as well because it turned out he’d gone and visited his aunt and wouldn’t have been there anyway.
And the nights that followed apparently weren’t as quiet as he’d hoped, so he ended up having to work all the following weekend.
Did she mind? Yes. Did it matter? No. She had no rights, no claim on his time or attention, and she had no urge to distract him from his work, but she began to get a glimmer of how Natalie might have felt left alone so much.
Not that she was much better. She had study of her own to do over the weekend after a one-day course down in London that Thursday, and apart from sporadic texts and emails they didn’t talk.
She caught up with him finally in the ED on Tuesday afternoon of the week of his exam, when she was struggling to get a line into a very sick little girl. She’d been brought in by her anxious parents and not a minute too soon. She was floppy and pale, seriously dehydrated after forty eight hours of gastroenteritis, and Iona couldn’t get a line in anywhere.
She’d tried to find a vein, so had Jenny, there wasn’t a paediatrician free to come and do it and she was about to call Sam to put an intra-osseous cannula in her tibia when she heard Joe’s voice and stuck her head out of the cubicle.
‘Joe, have you got a minute?’
‘For you, always,’ he said softly. ‘What’s up?’
‘Three-year-old girl, Lily, severe gastroenteritis, she’s dehydrated and becoming slightly delirious and I cannot for the life of me find a vein I can get into. I found one and it’s blown, Jenny’s tried and failed—I don’t think it’s possible. Can you do an IO for me?’
‘Let me have a look. Have you got a very fine cannula in case I can find a vein?’
‘Yes, I’ve got a handful,’ she said wryly, and took him in.
‘Hi, I’m Joe,’ he said to the parents, then crouched down to Lily’s level. ‘Hi, Lily. My name’s Joe. Do you mind if I have a look at you, poppet?’
Her lip wobbled, and he smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s OK. Don’t worry, sweetheart. You just lie there for a minute, I’m not going to hurt you.’
He turned her little hands over, checked the veins, moved down to her elbows, and smiled. ‘Got one,’ he said softly. ‘Right, Lily, I’m going to rub some lovely magic cream on your arm, and then I’m going to put a funny little tube in it to give your body a drink, OK?’
Her lip wobbled again but her mother cuddled her and he smeared on a little local anaesthetic, chatted to them for a moment to give it time to work and then he put a soft tourniquet round her arm, gave the skin a little wipe to remove the cream and before Lily could protest, the line was in, taped down and ready to go.
They left Jenny setting it up and went out into the corridor.
‘You’re quite good at this vein-finding thing, aren’t you?’ Iona said with a little twinge of envy.
‘You’re only jealous,’ he teased. ‘And, yes, I am good at it but then I need to be. In another world I probably would have been a water diviner,’ he added with a grin. ‘So how’s it going otherwise?’
‘OK. Busy. How’s the revision going?’
‘Oh, don’t. It’s a nightmare. I’ll never pass. There’s just so much to know and my head feels as if it’s going to burst, but hey. This time on Friday it’ll all be over.’
‘Are you back on Friday night?’ she asked hopefully, but he shook his head.
‘No, I won’t be home until Sunday, probably early afternoon? I promised my parents I’d go and see them. I’ve been neglecting them, but I’ll leave after breakfast. Stay the night on Sunday?’ he added, in a murmur, and she felt a little surge of happiness.
‘Yes, that’ll be nice.’
‘Nice?’
She felt herself colour. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘I do. I’ll look forward to it,’ he said softly, and grinning that mischievous grin he sauntered off and she went back to little Lily, trying to suppress her smile.
* * *
She shouldn’t have done it.
She should have waited until after the weekend, but she hadn’t been able to wait. And now there it was, the little white wand, saying ‘Not Pregnant’.
Her period wasn’t even due yet, not until Saturday, but the tests were good these days and she’d so hoped—
She bit her lips. She’d have to tell Joe, of course, when she saw him. She’d probably know by then for sure anyway, because her period would have started. And maybe he wouldn’t want to see her, if she was out of action? Not much fun for him, and he hadn’t had a lot of fun of any sort recently. And tomorrow was his exam.
She’d sent him a text wishing him luck, but she hadn’t heard back. Too busy, probably.
She threw the wand in the bin, washed her hands and went back to work, but she felt sick. Pregnant sick? No. Really sick.
Little Lily’s bug? She’d had gastroenteritis really badly and would have been shedding viruses all over the place, including on her.
She turned back to the cloakroom, lost her lunch and went home. No point in giving it to anyone else, she thought, but then after a few hours of slight stomach cramps, it all settled down again and she woke up on Friday morning still slightly queasy but feeling much better.
And then, against her better judgement and because she’d bought a two-pack, she did another pregnancy test.
Just in case.
Not Pregnant.
And still queasy. She phoned work, told them she still felt unwell and was advised to stay off for forty eight hours for staff and patient safety, so she tackled her laundry, tidied the flat—long overdue because it had been Libby’s turn—changed the sheets and then dug out her notes on the course she’d done the previous week and did some extra study.
And then on Friday night she had a call from Joe.
‘Hi. I’m on my way home. My mother’s not feeling very well, she’s got a horrible cold apparently so they’ve told me not to come. Fancy coming over? I’ll be home in about an hour.’
She closed her eyes, relief flooding her, because she really, really needed him. ‘That would be great.’
‘Good. Pack a bag, come for the weekend.’
She opened her mouth to tell him, then changed her mind. ‘OK. Ring me when you’re back, I’ll come straight over.’
* * *
She arrived fifteen minutes after he called, and he let her in, took one look at her and frowned. She looked pale, and definitely not her usual bouncy self.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ he asked gently.
‘I think I’ve had a touch of Lily’s bug—that little girl? I was sick once and I’ve felt a bit queasy but nothing much.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been feeling queasy, too. I reckon we’ve both had a touch of it, but I’m not surprised, she was shedding viruses all over us. Come on, come and sit down and have something to drink. You’re probably dehydrated and that won’t help the nausea. Electrolyte replacement?’
‘Oh, no, it’s disgusting. Can I smell toast? Because I’m suddenly ravenous, and tea and toast would be just amazing.’
He laughed. ‘I’m glad that’s what you fancy, because all there is in the house is the remains of a stale loaf and some out of date milk, but it passed the sniff test. That do you?’
She chuckled. ‘Sounds fine to me.’
He made them both tea while she buttered the toast, then they took it through to the sitting room and ate it on the sofa.
‘So how was your exam?’ she asked.
‘Gruelling and very, very hard. I’m sure I will have failed. Still, I can resit.’
‘You might have to have another go at getting me pregnant, as well,’ she said, and put the toast down, her face crumpling.
Oh, no. He put his arm round her and hugged her gently against his side. ‘Oh, sweetheart. When did you find out?’
‘Today. I did a test. I know it’s stupid of me, but I did it and it was negative.’
He frowned. ‘Isn’t it too early to tell?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Apparently not, and I’ve done it twice now. Joe, what if I can’t get pregnant? What if I’m like Isla? Then I’ll never be able to give her a baby—’
Her face crumpled, and he drew her gently into his arms and cradled her against his chest while she cried. It was so like her that her first thought had been for her sister, not for herself, and his heart ached for her.
‘Hey,’ he murmured, rocking her gently. ‘Come on, it’ll be all right.’
‘But what if it isn’t, Joe? What if I can’t get pregnant? We’re identical twins, so I guess it’s possible we have the same body chemistry, if that’s the problem, or the same anatomical issues—although she didn’t have any, come to that, and—’
‘Your period isn’t due until tomorrow, is it?’
She shook her head.
‘So don’t borrow trouble. Pregnancy tests can be wrong. Maybe it’s too early.’
‘Or maybe I hadn’t ovulated after all, maybe that happened later, too late. Or earlier. We only had one night.’
He sighed. ‘I know, and that’s my fault—’
‘It’s not your fault, you were busy. And you were pretty dedicated to the task on the Saturday night,’ she added with a wobbly smile.
He could have hugged her for that. Well, for that and a whole host of other reasons that he’d rather not analyse, so he stuck the mug back in her hand instead. ‘Here. Drink this and finish your toast, and then let’s go to bed. I’m shattered, and you look as if you could do with a good night’s sleep, too.’
She nodded, drank the tea, finished the toast and then closed her eyes. ‘That’s better. Thank you.’
‘It’s OK. Come on, bed for you.’
* * *
She wasn’t going to argue.
He took her upstairs, undressed her, sent her into the bathroom first and then tucked her into bed.
‘I’ll be two minutes,’ he said, and she snuggled down under his duvet, breathed in the scent of him on the sheets and sighed in disappointment. No scent of him. He must have changed the sheets.
For her? She smiled slightly at her silliness. Why would he do that for her? He was probably just fastidious.
Then he walked back in, stripped, turned off the light and got into bed beside her, folding her into his arms. ‘OK?’
She breathed in the scent of him, rested her head on his chest and smiled. ‘I am now,’ she said softly, and drifted off to sleep in seconds.